Eyes are the Window to the Soul
by Bill Gates Jr the 4th
Summary: This has some romance in it, but it is not stictly romance like some romantic fics. Have you ever wondered what the signifigance of Harry and Tom Riddle looking alike is? Ever thought that maybe James wasn't Harry's real dad?


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Hey--I don't wanna own anything, so J. K. Rowling owns everything. K?  
  
  
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I twiddle my thumbs and hum as James is babbling. He is always getting after me for something, so I never bother to listen now. Mostly, he prattles about money. Well, about me squandering it. Good grief, hasn't he gotten tired of that subject already? So what if I add furniture to the house, go on a shopping spree, and throw a party basically every day? I personally feel blessed to have enough money to be able to live a priviliged life like we live. I sigh and open up my ears again as I find that my thumbs are about the be rubbed raw. "Lily, we have to save for our child...in my job, you never know when I won't be able to provide for him or her...you know that!" I scrunch up my face in disbelief. "Child? What child? Since when have you ever touched our bed? Since when have you left your office long enough to do that? What do you want me to do besides waste money? Sit around and pet the cat?" His tired brown eyes look outraged when they could look excited to be home with me and loving. Good. Now maybe he'll yell a little and go away. "Lily, I know that I don't get to see you much, but I wish you wouldn't be so ...darn...BELLIGERENT!" I roll my eyes. "Stop trying to impress us with your vocabulary. I'm tired and I'm going to go to bed. I'm sure you have something waiting for you at your office." I smile sweetly but with more than a trace of sarcasm and jump upstairs.   
  
  
I hear James's sigh and feel him apparate away, most definately to his office. I growl out loud like some wild animal. Even my snubs wouldn't tug him away from my office!!! I have to have some sort of revenge. I glance out the window and see a busy Scottish city with a million and one lights shoving their gaudy but nessacery light in your face. My eyes also fall upon the Leaky Cauldron. "Why not?" I say out loud. I put my coat on over the nightgown I am wearing, the nightgown I wore hoping James would tear himself away from his office...and my coat covers it completely. I stuff my feet into my most comfortable shoes and apparate down to the alley that leads to Diagon Alley.  
  
  
It is hotter than I figured. I have a slight uneasy feeling in my stomach that is probably consience, but I ignore it as I pull off my coffee-colored, furry coat. It reveals a spaghetti-straped, flimsy blue nightgown that is cut pretty high on the legs. I know that my green eyes are dazzlingly mischievious right now, and I also know that something weird will happen. I feel even more guilty, but my little shoulder-devil takes over my mind and convinces me that, since James doesn't care about me or what I look like, it wouldn't hurt to turn a few heads. My shoulder-angel's only input was reassurance that I would acquire some robes at the robe shop when I reached it. Taking a deep breath, I grope around in my coat's pocket for my wand. Only my hand is torn away by a man who looks an awful lot like James...  
  
  
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A/N: If this wasn't so short, I would leave that as a cliffhanger for a bit, but, as it is extremely short already, I will continue. O-hey, what's with no one reading my revised A BOY NAMED ANDREW? It might have been a bit slow, but I used my vocabulary book (kidding) and it described a lot more like lots of reviewers told me to. :( . That's okay. Bye. For now.  
  
  
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The man looks me straight in the face and smiles. He then gets the same mischievious look in his grey, devious eyes that James used to get and leans close to me. His kiss was soft and gentle, but also determined and definate. I decide to explore. "After all, James deserves this, right?" I reason with my shoulder-angel. We then become more serious and he reaches for my left spaghetti strap. He fingers it and then slips it off. My stomach freezes, and my mind attempts to tell my limbs to retaliate and get away. My arms and legs remain inept. And the worst possible thing, the worst possible scenario, the most awful consequence for venturing out here, this late at night, occurs.   
  
  
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I wake up at 6 AM on the ground of the alley leading to Diagon Alley. My nightgown is loosely hanging on me, and my brown coat luxuriously covers me to protect me from the cold. The man is above me. He leans down and whispers in my ear while my muscles freeze again. "Thank you. Do you feel used in any way? Because if you do, I will do anything to compensate." He is so sweet, so reassuring, that I comment: "I'm fine." He smiles lovingly, and his smile reminds me of James even more than his appearance. "I am praying that you will have a child. I need a son. I will be willing to care for it if it inconvieniences you in any way." "No, my husband has been hoping for a child." I reply. "Thank you very much, you've helped me more than you know. Hopefully, our son or daughter will follow my profession." "Which is...?" His eyes got an evil darkness around them. "You could call me a professional minister...I cleanse the wizarding world. Where do you live? This way I can contact you when you have a child... if you have a child." I tell him, and he grins and apparates away, waving. Now nothing can preoccupy the guilt. I must go home and have a heart-to-heart with James.   
  
  
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"What?" asks the pleading face, begging me to pull the wool back over his eyes, that belongs to James. He is not even screaming. I melt down to a puddle on the floor. I seek refuge in his arms. Surprisingly, he supplies it.  
"Lily, I have been at the office too much. I'm sorry; I feel so d---ed responsible. Do you forgive me?" I look up with my tear-stained face. "Forgive YOU? Forgive me, please!" I break down crying again. He tenderly strokes my face and we stay like that for at least an hour or two.  
  
  
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It isn't long before we realize that the strange black-haired man that looks like James will get his wish. My stomach swells, and all pregnancy tests, muggle or wizard, are positive. James and I are preparing for my child and we pretend it is ours. It isn't easy to forget that hellish night, though, but James has been more supportive than I ever knew was possible. We have learned that a boy is curled up inside of me, and we have decided to call him Harry. Harry Potter. That sounds like a name destined to accomplish great things to both of us. Oh, and by the way---James and I have never quarreled since then. We figure that we pretty much are living ideally-except for the uneasy feeling about my son's paternal parent. I hope we can survive and forget this.  
  
  
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Harry is the sweetest child God ever created. He is now about one year old, and James and I are still fine and in love. However, we have learned about Harry's father---it is none other than the feared, power-hungry, murdering Lord Voldemort. And he wants my child. He knew that he needed a heir. I feel incredibly used. Harry is looking up at me and grinning. His eyes laugh as he blows a spit bubble. His eyes...they are the only thing that belong to me. The rest belongs to that evil monster. Good thing he looks like James. We won't tell any of his relatives. We are in hiding now, and we are praying that Voldemort will not find us. Peter Pettigrew has agreed to be our secret-keeper, but you never know who to trust anymore. James and I put Harry to bed and are about to crawl in our bed ourselves when a huge blast of emerald light bursts through the wall.   
  
  
The man is there. His grey eyes are bottomless pools of pure evil. I was definately sure that he didn't "love" me anymore. "Lily, take Harry and run!" is James's brave statement. His eyes show no despair, but instead provide trust, unwavering trust, and love. I make my eyes try to bathe him in my sight, but I know I must run. Harry's eyes are loving, as well. And they are green, just like mine...not grey, like HIS. I hear James fall like a sack of bricks in the other room. The tall, James-looking beast struts in. He smiles and magically pulls Harry from my hands. He looks at him. Harry spits a spit bubble and claps. Then he throws Harry down in outrage. "HIS EYES ARE GREEN!" Voldemort raises his wand on Harry, but I run over and cover him. I feel a dizzy feeling in my head, and all goes black. But my son will live. The old magic, the ancient magic will enable him to continue breathing. And every wizard, witch, and even muggle should pray that his eyes are the windows to his soul.  
  
  
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A/N: I know that it has always been a possibility and interesting alternative that Harry's dad is Voldie himself---remember how they look alike in the CHAMBER OF SECRETS? Well, if someone has already done a fic like this, please tell me in the review box down there. I'd like to read it. Well, bye!  
  
  
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